


Merlin Ficlets

by spelldaggered



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blood, Ficlet Collection, Fire, Hurt Merlin, Knives, Magic, Rescue, Trampled, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 20:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelldaggered/pseuds/spelldaggered
Summary: A collection of Merlin whump ficlets. Various characters, almost always Merlin/Arthur.





	1. Merlin; Bleeding

Prompt: _“You look soooooo good in red, love. I should make you bleed more often.”_

* * *

“Another,” she commanded with a snap of her fingers, and one of her men dutifully moved forward to trace a thin, delicate line across Merlin’s bare chest with his dagger.

Not enough to kill; just enough to draw blood.

Merlin hardly reacted this time. He felt weak and shivery, his eyes only half-open, but he was desperately fighting to stay awake, because he didn’t know what would happen otherwise.

“It’s really quite pretty, isn’t it,” Morgana mused, inspecting Merlin’s sliced up chest, stained crimson and rust from all the blood that had spread. “Especially when your skin is so very pale now. Even paler than usual, Merlin.”

He tried to glare at her for daring to use his name, but barely managed a jerk of his head, and she laughed cruelly.

Merlin let his eyes flutter shut briefly, silently praying that Arthur might find him soon. It was only supposed to be a simple hunt, the two of them and a handful of knights, but they were ambushed, and as the dust had settled, no one had expected  _Merlin_  to be the one missing.

Of course, Arthur might not even be looking for him. His heart would want to be, as Merlin’s yearned for him to be, but they both had sure heads, and Merlin knew his worth to the kingdom was pittance.

At least, it was believed to be so.

He tried again to draw on his magic, but each time he did, it sapped a little more of his energy. Morgana had brought him here simply because it was convenient, because it was where she liked to torture all of her enemies. The great stone slab he was bound to had a centuries-old enchantment on it, one which rendered magic users incapable of using their skills. She was unaware that it was perfect for securing Merlin too, of course.

He’d tried to fight, at first. His magic was powerful, and he was certain that with enough force, he could’ve broken free. Exposing himself to Morgana was too high a price though, so he had forced himself to give in to the invisible shackles.

That had been hours ago.

Now he wasn’t sure he had the strength to do magic ever again.

“Again.”

A different guard stepped forward, and he dug the knife in a little deeper than his predecessor, and a small waterfall of blood poured down from beneath his collarbone.

“You know, I’ll stop if you give me the information I want,” she lied.

Merlin tried to respond, but he couldn’t, aware that his time was running out.

Morgana smiled at him.

“Very well, I’ll continue,” she said, taking a knife herself this time, and digging it cruelly into the space below his ribs, causing him agony. “You know it’s such a shame Arthur never thought enough of you to make you one of his precious knights. You look so good in red.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts/requests are always open over at [spelldaggered.tumblr.com](http://spelldaggered.tumblr.com) for any ficlet you want to see - thanks for reading!


	2. Merlin/Arthur; Trampled by a crowd

Prompt:  _can you write a drabble where a character (fandom, oc, unnamed idc) gets trampled in a panicked crowd?_

* * *

For a moment, a single moment, there was dead silence.

Merlin stood alone in the centre of the village, having raced down the front steps of the castle but realising very quickly that even he was no match for the force of nature making its way towards Camelot.

The quiet of the early morning hours was broken by the first bloodcurdling scream, as the flames destroying the forest began licking at the houses on the outskirts of Camelot.

Sick to his stomach, Merlin stared at the fire in the distance that showed no signs of abating, desperately combing through his mind for anything that could help.

Screams in the dead of night were not a common occurrence though, and time stood still for the young warlock as the village came to life around him, woken by the sound. The villagers gathered up their most precious belongings, parents holding their children to them tightly, sellers clutching their wares, and suddenly the streets were full of anguished townsfolk seeking shelter in the confines of the castle.

As the crowd bustled past him, paying no notice to a plainly dressed servant watching the scene aghast, Merlin’s thoughts turned into a frenzy, and suddenly he was pushing back, fighting the crowd, desperately trying to get to the edge of the fire all the while knowing there was nothing he could really do.

The horns had begun to sound behind him, the castle and its staff having been alerted to the danger, preparing for action. Merlin prayed that Arthur stayed in his throne room, safely manning all rescue operations, though he knew deep down that Arthur’s horse would be amongst the hooves he could hear thundering through the castle gates already.

Merlin stumbled further down the main path that led through town, trying to stay out of the way, failing miserably. As he headed deeper into the village, the crowd only grew, swarming around him and carrying him in the opposite direction. The more he tried to fight, the worse it became, like a current of water that refused to take him where he was trying to swim.

Water.

They needed water.

Rain.

He stopped dead, not an easy feat in his current situation, and looked to the sky.

It was a big ask. A huge ask. To command nature itself, to direct its forces, to save Camelot. 

But Camelot needed saving, and Merlin had to at least try.

Running now with more purpose, Merlin began to fight back against the crowd, not caring who he elbowed out of the way as he continued to look up, forming the spell he needed in whispers beneath his breath.

He needed open space, somewhere he could roar at the sky and pray it roared right back at him, but with frustration and despair, Merlin realised he wouldn’t be reaching open space any time soon.

So his whispers would have to suffice.

He gazed up at the heavens, pleading with them to listen, and then he began to mutter, his words frantic, his eyes crazed. If the village had not been so fixated on escape, on safety, on reaching the exact place Merlin was running from, they’d have been afraid of him. As it was, no one paid him any attention, and for once in his life, Merlin was eternally grateful.

Magic flared at his fingertips, surged in his heart, and Merlin’s eyes widened.

The first crack of thunder nearly brought him to tears, even as his chest began to heave with the exertion of trying to produce a storm while fighting his way against the masses.

“Please,” he murmured to himself, pausing his spell to openly beg, his voice cracking.

The pause was his undoing.

Merlin’s first error was in not seeing that the ground beneath him had changed from flat, damp earth to uneven grass, his eyes on the clouds instead. His second was in not trying to stop himself from falling, too fixated on the raw magic flowing through him in the moment.

He went down slowly, invisible amongst the hundreds fleeing towards the castle, crashing to the ground and feeling his breath leave him all at once, the words of the spell dying on his lips.

He tried to look up, tried to focus on the clouds again, but he was tired now, his energy drained. The ground beneath him rumbled, the next wave of villagers only yards away, but Merlin found himself unable to move. He was spent, well and truly, but as he curled in on himself and covered his head with his hands, he felt the first few drops of rain hit his skin, and laughed brokenly.

Then the thunder from above was closer to his ears, and he was gone.

—

“Get to the castle!” Arthur shouted, as his panicked subjects flocked to the group of knights who had arrived. “There is food and shelter there for you all, but hurry. Hurry!”

He waved the people onwards from atop his horse, nodding at them as they passed before looking out over the orange flames now threatening yet another village.

“Go, to the castle!” he repeated, pointing in its direction as people hesitated.

“Your Majesty!” Sir Percival called, pointing to the sky just as Arthur looked toward the ground.

Somewhere, distantly, Arthur registered that it had begun to rain, that his knights were celebrating this fact, but his gaze had landed on a figure curled up on the ground, visible only due to a brief thinning of the crowd. It looked like- but gods no-

His stomach lurched, and Arthur ignored everyone as he urged his horse forward, parting the crowd as he went, until he cleared a space around the figure, leaping from his horse before she’d even stopped.

“Merlin,” he cried, his heart sinking as his suspicion was confirmed, racing over to his young servant. “Merlin!”

He gathered Merlin up his arms, ignoring the rain that was now coming down thick and fast, focused only on the ragdoll he was holding.

Already bruises littered the skin that was on show, his clothes torn, his face near unrecognisable. Arthur felt fear creep up his spine as he realised he had no idea how long Merlin had been lying here beneath a fearful crowd, their heavy footsteps unforgiving as they raced to safety.

“Merlin, Merlin,” he repeated, shaking the man gently, refusing to believe he was anything other than unconscious. “Merlin, look at me, wake up, Merlin.”

When he got no response, Arthur looked desperately up at his men, who had gathered round him to see what the problem was.

“Help me get him back to Gaius, now,” he all but growled, and they sprang into action.

“How should we-”

“Give him to me,” Arthur ordered, hopping back up into the saddle and holding his arms out as the limp body was passed up to him, closing his arm around the man’s upper body tightly. “Let’s go!”

With one hand on his reins, the other holding Merlin close to him, Arthur didn’t wait for the knights to catch up before he raced back to the castle. His people had dispersed by now, and the rain was making short work of dampening down the fire, but he didn’t care about the fire now.

All he cared about was Merlin, who was deathly pale, as though he’d run for miles before collapsing on the ground, Merlin, who had an ugly boot print across his face, Merlin, whose eyes were finally flickering open.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed with relief, nearly in tears.

“-thur?” his charge mumbled, but Arthur shushed him, pulling Merlin closer as the castle once again loomed in sight.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Arthur reassured him, chancing another look down. Merlin looked dreadful, but he was alive, and that was enough for now. “I’ll fix you, it’s okay.”

“Fire?” Merlin asked, the word slightly slurred.

“It’s over, the rain is helping,” Arthur told him, and now that his attention wasn’t entirely fixated on his servant, he noted that the storm was the fiercest he’d ever seen, the heavy raindrops still beating down on them.

“Rain,” Merlin whispered, but before he could say much else, his head lolled back against Arthur’s chest, his eyes closing again.

“Stay with me, Merlin,” Arthur asked, racing through the castle gates to the courtyard. “You’re safe now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts/requests are always open over at [spelldaggered.tumblr.com](http://spelldaggered.tumblr.com) for any ficlet you want to see - thanks for reading!


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